


Snowdrop

by alikuu



Series: Ost-in-Edhil [5]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Annatar being creepy as usual, Gen, M/M, Slash if you squint, friends make good pelts as long as they are the furry kind, wolves as pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 08:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9876926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alikuu/pseuds/alikuu
Summary: Celebrimbor receives an unlikely gift and Annatar enjoys it for far longer than anyone expected.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise in advance for any cringing that might occur while reading this story.

The Lord of Eregion stared at the gift he was being offered by the emissaries of the Northern Mannish tribes. He accepted it with practiced grace, as one would accept a gift of jewels or relics, or any other sensible item, and not a wild wolf pup, no matter how rare and stunning…

Later in the privacy of his chambers the elf finally could let his facade drop for long enough to sigh:

“What am I supposed to do with you?”

It wasn’t that he couldn't appreciate the significance of the offering - albino wolves were not a common commodity and his guests had assured him that this one had been born wild just a few months hence.

But even though Celebrimbor had grown up around a massive demi-god hound and didn't mind dogs, he was not his uncle by any account. He was not the type to ride through forests, delight in hunting or have an interest in the breeding or keeping of dogs. He didn’t cherish the idea of having a wolf curl up on his bed and shed its fur everywhere.

The pup’s eyes were red, while every other part of it was the purest white. It was clearly not just any wolf, but as much as Tyelpe wished he could summon more appreciation, he couldn’t help but feel a little unsettled by the creature’s beady crimson eyes.

Almost as soon as the pup saw him it began rolling around the room, growling playfully. It paused every now and then to look up, as if expecting something from him.

“He’s a spirited one.” Annatar had slipped into his chambers unnoticed and his voice was coming from just behind Tyelpe’s right shoulder.

“I think he wants to play.” Celebrimbor observed, not at all phased by the Maia’s sudden appearance.

“You must train him to behave.” Annatar observed. “The last thing you want is him eating your work and gnawing your furniture, which I assure you will happen if you don’t start straight away.”

At the mention of eaten work, Celebrimbor turned to look at his friend in horror.

“Surely he’s too small for any of that…” Tyelpe wondered, looking back at the wolf pup, who was currently pulling at the edge of his bed-covers with its tiny maw. Before the elf’s bewildered stare it grew progressively more aggressive.

“No! Bad boy!” Celebrimbor tried to pick it up, but got only a bite for his troubles before the pup hid behind a bookcase.

Celebrimbor let out a rather unelven growl of frustration that made Annatar chuckle.

“I will figure out what to do tomorrow.” He decided and plopped on his bed.

He expected Annatar to get the hint and leave, however his friend was still hanging about, arms crossed in front of his chest and looking towards the bookcase behind which the wolf pup had disappeared.

“What are you going to name him?” He asked and Celebrimbor raised an eyebrow. Was it just him, or did Annatar sound slightly too disinterested for his lack of concern to be genuine?

Tyelpe thought for a moment and then offered:

“Nimin - Snowdrop.”

The Maia rolled his eyes.

“Don’t insult him, give him a proper name!”

“What do you propose?” Celebrimbor raised an eyebrow.

“Achasethir - Fearsome maw.” Annatar declared and Celebrimbor pursed his lips.

“You can’t be serious. With that kind of name everyone’s going to think that he bites.”

“And he will.” Annatar said almost fondly.

Celebrimbor heaved a sigh and unfolded to his feet.

“I hope you are jesting.” The elf warned. “He needs a less evil name.”

Annatar tilted his head to the side and gave him an unimpressed look.

“Tharamag.” He said without any inflection.

“Tharamag?” Tyelpe asked uncomprehendingly. "Does it mean anything?"

“It means the same in the language of the Northmen.”

“How’s that an improvement?”

“No one will fear a name they don’t understand.” The Maia suggested.

Celebrimbor shook his head.

“Fine. Call him whatever you want. But it’s an ugly name and I will call him Snowdrop.”

…

Somehow Tharamag wasn’t such an ugly name when the mouth that called it was so pretty. Annatar managed to make it sound exotic and alluring, especially when he pronounced the thick “th” sound at the beginning.

Quickly enough it became evident that no dog trainer was skilled enough to discipline the wild wolf pup, however it only took the slightest prompt by Celebrimbor for the Maia to agree to train the wolf himself. It was around that time that Celebrimbor decided that the embarrassment of calling the name Snowdrop to an unresponsive pup did nothing for his decorum and admitted that Annatar had been right when choosing a wolfish name. And once all the details were settled Celebirmbor discovered that owning a dog had its merits. Taking time from work to walk Tharamag in the company of Annatar or sitting in the gardens beneath the shade of a lush oak tree, looking up occasionally from his notes to the sight of Annatar running around the fields with the albino wolf in toll was surprisingly rewarding.

The Maia looked so different when he was like this - less like his usual forbidding self, and more like a young, bright, happy spirit. His laughter was musical, his hair shone like spun gold and he threw himself on the flowering grass with such abandon, rolling around with young Tharamag like a wild thing. Celebrimbor was well aware that the sight attracted an audience of too many gushing elves. Usually around the time when the gardens got a little too overpopulated with Annatar's admirers, Tyelpe remembered their pressing tasks in the forge and beckoned to the Maia, who lead Tharamag back to him with a bright smile and a twinkle in his golden eyes.

“Here.” Annatar said once, on their way back to the upper tier of Ost-in-Edhil. “Hold the leash. He needs to learn you are his owner.”

“I think he has already chosen his master.” Tyelpe laughed, but took the offered leash and the albino wolf obediently allowed him to lead. Annatar had done a splendid job disciplining the wolf, who grew more intelligent by the day until Celebrimbor almost expected him to start speaking.

“His master, yes, but you are his owner.” Annatar said and Celebrimbor chuckled.

That’s when the thought came to him. Annatar seemed to enjoy the beast so much, it seemed unfair for Celebrimbor to keep him even if it was incredibly disrespectful to his Northern allies to give away a gift they had so formally bestowed upon him.

But they didn't have to know and even if they did, their lives and memories were much shorter than his or the Maia's. Therefore one evening when Annatar came to his chambers to return the now almost fully grown Tharamag, Celebrimbor stood up from his desk.

“You don’t have to bring him back every night.” He said and Annatar looked away from the red-eyed wolf, who was licking his hand in fond farewell.

“In fact,” Celebrimbor continued, “you don’t have to bring him back at all.”

“What are you saying, Tyelpe?” Annatar asked, although his shrewd eyes gave away that he understood perfectly.

“You can have him.” The elf offered simply. “I can see that you like him a lot and I never really knew how to take care of him. It must be confusing for him to have a master as well as an owner. It's better if they are the same person.”

Annatar’s eyes fell back on the wolf. There was affection in them, but also something else, some strange emotion that Tyelpe didn’t fully understand.

“I believe I have done a fine job teaching him the difference.” He murmured under his breath.

“I'm not saying that you haven't.” Celebrimbor reassured, even though he wasn't certain that the earlier words had been meant for him at all. “But I want you to have him. He’s yours.”

Annatar was silent for a long moment and then he looked up and met Celebrimbor’s eyes. The elf wondered if he could get away with giving him a hug, but the guarded expression on the Maia’s face, coupled with the fact that the exchange wasn’t such a big deal after Annatar had already owned Tharamag in anything but words, made him decide against it.

“It’s awfully undiplomatic of you.” Annatar said finally, but the reproach lacked bite.

“From all people, I thought you wouldn’t chaste me over this.” Tyelpe grinned. “Still, I’d appreciate it if you don’t tell Lord Steinarr the next time you see him.”

Annatar smirked in return and so it was agreed. Annatar took the albino wolf and regardless of his initial misgivings, seemed very content. Tharamag ended up a very well-trained dog, who followed the Maia everywhere without the need of a leash and grew to be so smart that he understood the speech of the Eldar and his master’s every command, be it verbal or given by thought. The albino wolf became one of Ost-in-Edhil's many wonders, and many delighted in his presence while it lasted.

…

Some years later Annatar came to Tyelpe’s workshop alone.

“Where is Tharamag?” The elf asked, surprised to see the Maia without his faithful wolf.

“Unfortunately he’s deceased.” Annatar answered and Celebrimbor’s eyes widened in anguish.

“That can’t be!” He breathed and put down his work, making his way to his friend in a hurry. This time he didn’t hesitate to pull the Maia into a tight embrace. “I’m so sorry.”

Annatar went rigid in his arms, but didn’t try to fight his grasp, so Tyelpe assumed that his friend was trying hard to appear strong and not show his devastation over the death of his much beloved pet. So he rested his chin on the Maia’s shoulder and rocked them slowly in a manner that he thought was soothing.

“What happened?” Celebrimbor asked softly when Annatar relaxed a little in his hold.

“He had an inborn malfunction of the heart.” The Maia said. “It was a matter of time from the start.”

“I’m sorry.” Celebrimbor repeated, while he wondered how Annatar had found out. Had he always known? If so, how had Annatar been able to love so intensely while knowing that one day everything would end?

Annatar was patting his back rather insistently and Celebrimbor got the hint to let him go. When he looked at the Maia’s eyes he found them completely dry and devoid of anguish. Tyelpe’s own had become tearful as his heart had filled with sympathy for his friend’s loss.

They regarded each other equally uncomprehendingly.

“Well, I’m glad you are not too upset.” Celebrimbor said finally, rubbing the tears away with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry if I upset you.” Annatar responded and raised his fingers to the corner of one of the elf’s grey eyes, wiping away the last remains of moisture there.

“And thank you for letting me have this while it could last.” Annatar added after a moment and then did a curious thing - he raised himself a little and kissed Celebrimbor’s forehead.

The gesture made the elf’s cheeks flush and Tyelpe had to smile despite the tragedy of the Maia's loss. The kiss was well worth the embarrassment, the tears and the strange miscommunication, and Celebrimbor treasured the memory of it for longer than he remembered the wolf.

…

One evening decades later, Celebrimbor found himself in Annatar’s chambers and while looking around with curiosity, his gaze landed on a white fur pelt that covered the foot of the Maia’s bed.

While Annatar was fussing about with the chalice, pouring wine for both of them, the elf found himself strangely fixated on the small detail. The white pelt, which seemed to have belonged to a wolf was terribly familiar. So much so, that suddenly Celebrimbor was uncomfortably reminded of Annatar's pet wolf.

Surely it couldn’t be. But then again, how many albino wolves were there… No, it was impossible.

Annatar spotted his preoccupation and put down the wine in favour of sitting on the edge of his bed and running a hand through the exquisite white fur.

“Do you like it?” He asked.

“I… Yes.” Celebrimbor stumbled. He tried to get the though of Tharamag out of his mind. Asking the question was too rude and completely inappropriate. But if the though was so ridiculous, why then couldn’t he get the image of Annatar skinning his pet out of his mind?

Celebrimbor tried and failed to look at something else.

“I made it myself.” Annatar offered after a long pause with the air of someone who was being generous.

“You did?” Celebrimbor blinked rapidly. And then the suspicion got so awful that he risked being blunt - “It’s not from Tharamag, is it?”

“Yes, it is.” Annatar answered calmly. The elf's jaw dropped.

“How could you?!” Tyelpe uttered quietly with a mixture of accusation and disbelief.

“Do you mean that I should have buried him with this beautiful hide?” The Maia asked, turning his unperturbed eyes to the snow white pelt and running his slender fingers through it lovingly. “It would have been a terrible waste.”

Celebrimbor shook his head in denial.

“No - I mean,” The elf fought down the hysteria in his voice and tried for the tone he used to lecture apprentices,“I understand what you mean by a a waste, but you can’t look at it in that way. It was a part of Tharamag. And you - you shouldn’t have desecrated his body thus. The respectful way to bury the dead is whole.”

Annatar looked up with cool eyes, meeting Celebrimbor’s upset ones.

“He was dead, Tyelpe.” The Maia said matter-of-factly. “He didn’t care if he had his fur, or any other part of himself for that matter, to rot alongside his meat.”

Upon hearing the word meat, Celebrimbor bleached.

“You didn’t eat him, right?” He breathed.

Annatar rolled his eyes.

“Please, Tyelpe. I only kept the parts of him that were useful.”

Celebrimbor didn’t know what to say to him. He settled for:

“Do I want to know?”

“Judging by your reaction,” Annatar ventured, looking him up and down, “No, I don’t think you want to know.”

Celebrimbor nodded grimly and then, after taking a seat on the other side of Annatar, making every effort not to look at Tharamag’s hide, a ridiculous thought crossed his mind.

“If I die, you wouldn’t skin me too, I hope?” He asked jokingly, hoping to dissolve some of the tension between them.

The long moment during which his friend eyed him calculatingly before shaking his head made Celebrimbor feel mildly nauseous.

“Of course not.” Annatar said in all seriousness and as if sensing the distress in the elf’s heart, he added: “Even if I was inclined not to let your body go to waste, I can’t really think of a use for any part of it. As pretty as your hair is, it’s not nearly enough for a good throw or a carpet.”

Glad for the humour, Celebrimbor hurried to laugh.

“Too bad I’m not one of the Edain.” He attempted a joke as well.

“Their skin is even more useless than that of the Edar.” The Maia shook his head and Celebrimbor preened at being compared favourably to the race, which his friend often seemed to prefer for the strangest reasons.

“You wouldn’t come up with some weird and abstract use for my scalp?” Tyelpe prodded, hoping to elicit a laugh from his friend.

“If you are fishing for compliments, I’m afraid you are going to be left disappointed. I don’t think there’s any use for your mane but decorating your head.” Annatar said, and then a little more thoughtfully he added, “If I really wanted a keepsake from you, I would rather take your hands.”

Celebrimbor’s eyes widened and he hid his hands behind his back at once.

“Don’t even suggest that!”

“I thought you wanted to hear how much I admire their clever fingers and the fine work they can achieve.” Annatar laughed.

“In any other context, I might.” Celebrimbor frowned, still put off by the Maia’s insensitive joke. “My hands are my life. Take them away and I’m nothing.”

“I should have to remember that.” Annatar half-smiled. “Now, would you like some wine?”

…


End file.
